Health
Prostate Gland Ultrasound and Biopsy Humor
You want to do what?
Arthur Cofresi
Okay, you wake-up one morning and something has changed. You make a doctor’s appointment and they run a few tests. The results aren’t conclusive, but they don’t look good. The next step, you’re explained, is to preform a small procedure called a “Prostate Gland Ultrasound/Biopsy.”
You go home and jump on the Internet. The search results are all boiler plate. The information is packaged and impersonal. It is meant for the other guy, not you. You think about putting the procedure off, but decide to go ahead and get it over with. And, then the day comes and you bite your lip and make ready. At least, that is what I did.
There has been a time gap between the first day, and “the day,” so you’ve had some time to think and make some adjustments to your life. For me it was to lose some weight, watch my diet, be a better person.
Overall, I’ve been feeling good. I did lose some weight. I’ve been going to the gym, and surprisingly doing well with my exercise program. By looking at me you wouldn’t think that I might have a problem.
Anyway, they were all waiting for me this morning. I went in after fasting most of the day before, and after giving myself a fast enema. To be honest, I’m not good at sticking things up my butt, but hey… My son came with me so he could drive me home and to see how I was doing. It was good to see him.
Once I got into the exam room, I was immediately told to give a urine sample. The instructions didn’t call for one, so I tried to void my systems before the procedure. Now, I’m standing over a toilet wishing I’d had a “gallune” of coffee or something.
Next, strip from the waist down, a paper towel to cover up, and the prenatal curl on the examination table.
Doctor comes in, we say “Hi,” and he utters the famous last words, “You’re going to feel a little pressure, but it won’t hurt.”
“Yeah, right,” I think.
I guess I did something right though, as I did try to relax and go along with the probing. First, for the ultrasound pictures, then some local numbing medication was offered for the discomfort to follow. Which, sure sounded good, but to be honest, I didn’t feel much difference between the before and after. Then the fun began.
On the plus side, nothing seemed to jump out at the doctor to indicate that my life was over and I should get my affairs in order. He was very candid and I suspect if he saw something of a major concern he would have said something. On the other hand, he did mention that my prostate was enlarged. He said a normal weight would be about 25 grams, and mine weighed in at 65 grams. Later, he told me that the ratio in a PSA score and prostate size was proportional; the larger the prostate the higher the PSA number.
Next, the conversation went from, well since your here, why don’t we remove a few samples just for… So snip/snap, snip/snap to the tune of eight samples are obtained. All things considered, the snip/snap was fairly painless whereas the positioning of the probe was more uncomfortable. Then I was done.
After a few minutes, I cleaned up a bit and got dressed. Immediately, I was asked to give another urine sample. Okay, that’s not cool. I already donated, and well, there is only so much a man can process in half an hour. What they were looking for was blood in my urine of course. Now, I’m not saying that I’m an overly brave person.
It’s true that I fought fires, and danced on rooftops, and survived storms at sea, but I do have an issue when it comes to blood, my blood in particular. Especially not my blood coming out from the end of my penis. So, while everyone else was excited to see the results, I was not. To my surprise, my last full measure of urine devotion was bloodless, much to my relief.
The post consultation consisted of “I won’t know the full results till next week, but…”
The but may be no more than an enlarged prostate. Most likely, according to my doctor, I may be required to take medication to shrink the gland for the rest of my life, with, he mentioned “positive side effects.” Seems that the medicine may reduce further problems in the future, may slow the potential of cancer growth, and add six inches, well maybe not, but hell I ought to get something from this embarrassment and misery.
On the other hand, he mentioned, “I will have blood in my semen for months, maybe longer, or not.”
Overall, I feel fine. I got a week off pass to do nothing, which I deserve, and some hope that whatever I have may be treated and eventually go away. I beseeched my family and friends to take a moment to toast the part of me that has gone to the great beyond. Somewhat diminished, I mentally monitor my body, and think how fortunate I am.
Other people suffer more, and have cause to grieve, but I tell myself, “I’m going to be okay,” as I wait for the biopsy results.
A week passed and a lot of my fears went with it. Surprisingly, I had little discomfort from the biopsy. I had some light bleeding in my urine on the second day, which cleared up by evening (my doctor told me to drink lots and lots of water to clear out the waste.) I never had rectal bleeding thanks to consuming lots of fiber in my diet, leading to soft stools. And, because I started taking antibiotics prior to the procedure I never suffered the nasty side effects of a bad prostate biopsy.
The return visit to the doctor’s office confirmed my thoughts, that nothing very serious was taking place. He told me that in many cases the biopsy report are inconclusive, but in my case the results were definitive– I don’t have prostate cancer! On the other hand, my prostate is enlarged and will remain so until related symptoms require medication to counteract BHP; you know the frequency and urinating at night issues, etc.
All-in-all, I guess I’ve entered into another right of passage. I’m a little portly and it seems that I stay sorer a lot longer than I remember; and I catch myself being a bit more cranky then I should be. But, I still have my hair, gray alas, and I have my teeth, they’re strong enough that I can chew into a tough steak and eat corn off the cob, so I really don’t have much to complain about.
It’s not likely that I will succumb to prostate cancer as my cause of death unless years from now I have to get up in the middle of the night to go pee and in my groggy state manage to wander outside and get run over by a garbage truck. Then I’ll be pissed!